Murder on the What?
by CeliaEquus
Summary: On the train journey to London, Hermione dreams, and tells Crookshanks all about it. But what brought it on? And what will happen next? For the Hogwarts Express Challenge. No romantic pairing in this one. Usual disclaimers apply, naturally.


"Murder on the What?"

Hermione yelped as she fell to the floor. She grimaced as the edge of the book dug into her chest, and sat up gingerly. She looked around, and was relieved to see that the only other occupant of the train compartment was Crookshanks, just as it should be. He looked at her disdainfully, but she couldn't help wrapping him in a big hug. He meowed loudly, and she pulled back.

"Sorry, Crooks. I just had a terrible dream." She tilted her head, and then said, "Actually, maybe we could discuss it?" He meowed again, and she took that as a positive reply. She wandlessly Summoned the book, and placed it on the opposite seat, before turning into her Animagus form—a tabby cat with a tortoiseshell coat. Professor Black had trained her, and she was going to London for the holidays to register at the Ministry of Magic.

Once she had settled beside Crookshanks, she curled her tail around her legs. "It's all because I've been reading Agatha Christie again, I know it. But it was so strange. Harry was Poirot, which is kind of appropriate, since they've both got black hair and green eyes, plus the same initials…"

"You're rambling, Mistress," Crookshanks said.

"Sorry. Well, we were on the Hogwarts Express—like we are now—and Lucius Malfoy was there. He was asking Harry to protect him, because his life had been threatened. His secretary, Blaise Zabini, had these letters, and showed them to Harry, who looked them over. They were all short and to the point. Oh, and there were a dozen other passengers on the train…"

"I wish there were right now."

"Hush, Crookshanks! At least we got this compartment to ourselves. Ah, the privileges of being Head Girl." She gave him a smug, catty smile, which he returned. "Anyway, may I please go on?"

"By all means, Mistress. Although it's probably just been brought on by something you ate."

"I doubt it. It's too much of a coincidence. So the other passengers were all from different houses; and aside from the Hogwarts connection, they didn't seem to know each other. During the night, however, the train got caught in a snowdrift, one which would keep them stuck for three days, and Mr. Malfoy was murdered. Harry, after doing some research, found out that Malfoy wasn't his real name, and that he actually had a little girl kidnapped and then killed years before…"

By the end of the story, right until Hermione gave Crookshanks the solution to the mystery, the train was still continuing its journey to King's Cross. The half-Kneazle's eyes grew wider and wider, and he even halted in his cleaning. Finally, he spoke.

"And all of this from reading a book? Are you _sure_ it's not something you had from the cart?"

"It must be the 'express' bit in the title. Also, we have just fought a war, Crooks."

"Wish Malfoy _had_ been murdered…"

"Crookshanks!"

"Well, his brat of a son has been bullying you all these years."

"Oh," she meowed, nuzzling up to him, "you're so gallant. Dear Crookshanks." She cleaned his face for him, and then leapt to the floor. "Must change back. So," she said, turning around to look at her familiar, "do you think it _has_ just come from me reading _Murder on the Orient Express_?"

"You've convinced me, Mistress."

"Hmm." She changed back to her human form, and put away the book. She was about to pull out another when the train ground to a halt, and she almost fell into the opposite wall. She shrieked, hoping that it wasn't another attack. Instead, she opened the door, wand at the ready, and looked out.

"Hermione?" someone called. It was Harry, who was looking out from a compartment further down. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry. What about you?"

"We're all fine here. D'you know what's going on?"

"No."

"I do," another voice said, from Hermione's right. It was Lucius Malfoy, leaning against the wall. "Look out the windows, and you'll see the problem."

Everyone followed his suggestion. Hermione gasped when she saw the problem.

They were caught in a snowdrift.

Her gaze slid around to Mr. Malfoy, and she swallowed.

"Sir?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Uh… you've never gone by any other name, have you? I mean, Lucius Malfoy _is_ you real name, isn't it?"

He glared at her. "Of course it is, girl. Just ask any of your professors. Why?"

"Um…" She glanced back into her compartment, where Crookshanks was watching them carefully. "Never mind. Forget I asked."

She was about to close her door when a gloved hand stopped her.

"Miss Granger," Lucius said, leaning close, "you had better get ready to stay here for a few days. It looks like it will take awhile to tunnel out."

Hermione bit her lower lip. Divination isn't real, divination isn't real, she thought desperately, fighting the urge to hop in place. Then she saw something like amusement in the blonde man's eyes, and she scowled.

"Magic will reduce that time to about five minutes, won't it?" she said, crossing her arms.

He nodded. "You are not the only one who can read Muggle literature, Miss Granger," he said, holding up his own copy of _Murder on the Orient Express_. "Good day to you. And… pleasant dreams." He smirked, and walked into his own compartment.

Who knew what Hermione would be reading? Only a few people. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and…

"Sirius!" she shouted, turning around. The dark-haired professor was giving her a falsely-innocent look, which turned to a look of horror.

"Oops," he said. "Last time I team up with Slytherins to prank Hermione Granger." He turned into his dog form, and ran off down the train, followed by two cats.

**

* * *

**

This bit of madness is for the Hogwarts Express Challenge. Hope you enjoyed reading is as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm hooked on challenges at the moment.

**Please review!**


End file.
